I made a mental note: get on the Internet when you get home and find a forum for…hmmm…what do they call rugged touring bikes? Oh well, I'll just call them adventure bikes for now because this is turning into one Hell of an adventure.
Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta were beautiful, but I avoided tourists and stayed with locals. I felt like Ben during his missionary adventures. A group of teens came over to hear stories about America from the big gringo. They laughed, asked questions about pop stars and fashion, and asked why we didn’t listen to Nancy Reagan when she was First Lady.
What? Nancy Reagan? They explained how American demand for drugs meant kids they knew got leather jackets and machine guns at 16 by joining cartels. Did Americans know how much our consumption of drugs drove violence in Mexico? No, actually, I didn’t and we stopped laughing for a while.
The ride to Guadalajara was breathtaking. On Sunday morning I cruised the city and admired the 50s & 60s-era cars people were showing off downtown. I felt like I was in Cuba. I spent a couple hours just walking and admiring the Buicks and Chevy Bel Airs, and wishing my father would have let me buy his 1953 Buick Roadmaster when I was 14. I would still own that car.